The Last Crusade
by A Libertine So Grim
Summary: Mikhail has decided to join the expedition, swearing to fight for his king and beliefs. Can he free himself of the forbidden feelings that bind him down? Yaoi aka man x man warning! Based on the game Animamundi: Dark Alchemist.


**Disclaimer: **Characters are property of Karin-Hirameki

**Foreword: **Gentlemen prefer blondes, eh? I figured it was about time I pay heed to all you Mik/Geo fans out there, hence this little drabble. (Okay, I confess: the real reason for writing this was that I accidentally destroyed my FFXII save file and now I'm too frustrated to continue from a save point nearly 20 hours before the one that got destroyed! I'M DYING DAMMIT!)

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**Chapter I: Flawed**

How very unusual that a prayer did not ease Mikhail's pain at all. It was definitely against all his noble principles to bring such an emotional baggage into a holy place; yet now the dark aura of anguish surrounding him threatened to befoul not only the man himself, but the sacred edifice of the Agestro Church as well. Sighing his _Amen _just once more to make sure his wordless plight was heard, Mikhail rose from his knees and cast an incertain look at the crucifix before him. Some stray rays of the ochre afternoon sun filtered through the skillfully made, extremely ornate stained glass, making the Captain of the Royal Guard squint and turn away. The church was supposed to be empty excluding the priest, who was, however, nowhere to be seen. _How kind of him_, Mikhail thought when slowly pacing towards the narthex. This was a time when he needed to connect to God alone; even devoutly attending Masses daily to keep up appearances in the eyes of the people was not enough.

_Wait a minute_, he suddenly thought to himself as he stopped before reaching for his sword that was left in the vestibule. However badly it hurt, Mikhail had to admit that there was no certainty of him ever putting foot inside this magnificent house of God. Under his tough and formal exterior, there was a venomous seed of despair, aknowledging the possibility of defeat – and that of death. _Oh Eliphus_, the yearning in his heart kept rustling as he turned on his heels and strode back towards the altar. If he were to follow in the mighty Eliphus Levi's footsteps – to lose his life on the battlefield – he had to seek absolution of all the sinful thoughts and deeds he had been plagued with. Were he obliged to kill, he wanted to make sure there was no other reason for him to descend to the gates of Hell. Shuddering from the horrid thought, the man stopped before the confessional and swallowed hard. Not only was it his duty, but also his salvation.

It was as he had though. The priest was in the confessional, perhaps still listening to the wrongdoings of a penitent. Out of mere consideration, Mikhail lent no ear to the soft whispering that clearly was no business of his. He waited for his turn, restlessly pacing around the nave, obsessively lighting a candle before every statue of a saint on his way. The rosary in his breast pocket was getting heavier by the minute, as if it had absorbed all his sinful thoughts and recorded any evidence of the captain's inebriated or merely ignorant misconduct. "Help me", Mikhail called out to the metallic ornaments on his boots, for the light above was too strong for him before the confession to come. Such discomfort... it was probably Georik's bad influence raising its head. Certain past events, ceaselessly replaying in the vortex of Mikhail's mind, had revealed a new side of his dear friend, a dark and baleful one. Had the poor man forsaken God for some sinister purpose Mikhail's ears could never bear? _I can't pray for you to find His grace anew, unless you want it. From now on, that's all I can do for you... _

"My! Good afternoon, Mikhail." A voice, familiar yet lamentably distant in its soft sweetness, was an unexpected yet very much welcome distraction from the captain's somber thoughts. He turned around abruptly, fighting the rosy tinge that would always appear on his cheeks in the presence of such beauty. As they met Mikhail's, her eyes betrayed the smile hidden behind her apparently favourite accessory - the lacy fan she was always carrying with her. "Y-your Highness... what a pleasure to be here in the presence of your beauty and your lovely company!" the man stammered, muting the tail of his words as his lips brushed briefly against the back of her small, manicured hand. Despite the fact that it was Sylvie's right hand he was holding, the captain felt a sting of guilt pain his heart as he remembered the engagement ring she was wearing in the other hand. The fair lady of Hardland was taken, betrothed to that vile Bruno Glening. A foreigner whose terribly smug face was not even worth picturing inside a holy building such as this.

The overly courteous gesture seemed to cheer Sylvie up even more. "Why, you seem rather surprised! Even a princess needs to confess every now and then", she teased; her silky, golden curls shimmering in the strange light, almost like an epiphany of what was still good and pure. Mikhail recoiled a little, failing to emit anything resembling an amused laugh she would probably have wanted to hear. _How asinine of you, _Mikhail reproached himself behind his nervous façade, only capable of admiring the forbidden beauty before him. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I merely regard you as most kind and virtuous. The likes of me, on the other hand--", he managed to blurt out before a quiet sound of movement and speech distracted him. _But of course_, the man thought to himself as he saw Maryn Rubron, Her Highness' maid-in-waiting emerge from the confessional and return to her lady. The Princess' fair visage was still casting its beautiful light upon Mikhail's troubled being, and she smiled again. "Thank you, Mikhail. That's a beautiful thought, even if it's not true. I'm sure Maryn has much less to confess than I do", she almost giggled, holding the raven-haired woman's hand in a fashion that suggested a true friendship rather than subsidiarity dictated by the laws of society. The colour on Maryn's cheeks was a tad deeper than that on Mikhail's face. "Good afternoon, Captain", she said as she curtseyed gracefully, earning a hasty bow in exchange. "Good afternoon, milady. Forgive me, Your Highness, now it's my time to repent. I beg your leave", the captain uttered, bowing once again before striding to the other end of the nave, leaving the confused women behind. _Oh, my Princess... If only...!_

Holding his breath, he opened the ornate wooden door and settled down in the confessional. The priest on the other side of the grating cleared his throat, encouraging the pious captain to start. Taking a deep breath, Mikhail closed his eyes and crossed himself. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession", he articulated, his shaking hands yearning to hold the hilt of his faithful sword instead of sweating under his white gloves. Two very long weeks of minor evil deeds... and sinful thoughts in abundance. This was the only way. Now, where to begin?


End file.
